Chef's Special
by Trinity Everett
Summary: It's like high school all over again, only now instead of being the girl who'd been ditched just before prom because her friend was asked out by the boy they'd both liked, Kate's left standing in the waiting area of a brand new, swanky, five-star restaurant. Yeah, thanks a lot, Maddie.


**_Chef's Special_**

 **Rating:** T

 **Category:** Season 2 AU - set between Food to Die For and Overkill, Caskett

 **Notes:** This little plot bunny popped into my head and wouldn't let me rest until I took care of it. Hopefully it'll be enjoyed as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

 _"Sorry, Becks, it's insane at the restaurant tonight and I can't get away. We'll do dinner another time, okay? Sorrreeee."_

Same old Maddie. All over the place and always ready with a reason to bail. It's like high school all over again, only now instead of being the girl who'd been ditched just before prom because her friend was asked out by the boy they'd both liked, Kate's left standing in the waiting area of a brand new, swanky, five-star restaurant.

Yeah, thanks a lot, Maddie.

She turns to leave. She's thirty years old; she can do better than revisiting her teenage insecurities at the hands of her former best friend.

Another message pops up on her phone as she sidesteps a couple that apparently thinks they own the entire walkway. Blondie sends a withering look her way; classy, lady, classy. Kate's the bigger person, though, and doesn't trip the woman.

 _"I kept the reservation, though! And it's on me, whatever you'd like. Please stay and tell me how it is?"_

Dining alone, that sounds appealing. That's something she can do while wearing sweatpants. It involves her couch and a book, too, not a too-fancy restaurant and snobby people. Sorry Maddie, the couch wins.

"Miss Beckett?"

Kate stops again, wondering why the maî·tre d' is asking for her. The reservation is in Maddie's name.

"Miss Queller asked that we show you to your table, if you're ready."

"I, ah," she hedges, biting her lip quickly. Well, she did get dressed up. And it _is_ a meal on Madison's dime… "Yes, yes I am. Thank you."

So she holds her chin high and follows the head waiter. Maybe it won't be so bad. They seem to be heading to a quiet part of the restaurant, maybe no one will notice that her friend flaked and left her eating alone.

It isn't until the slim man leads her to a table in the back corner of the dining room that she realizes she doesn't have to worry about being alone. The table isn't empty. To make matters worse, she recognizes that jacket, those broad shoulders, the close-cropped hair at the back of his neck.

"Castle?"

He jolts, twisting at her voice before scrambling to his feet.

"Beckett? I – what are you doing here?"

Snapping her mouth closed, she shakes her head. "What am I – what are _you_ doing here?"

"I was… Madison invited me to – " he stops, raking his eyes over her quickly before looking around. "Are you meeting Demming here?" She ignores the jealous fire in his question, along with her own envy. Of _course_ he's here because Maddie asked. So much for her friend being _too busy_ to date.

"What? No, I was… supposed to be meeting Maddie for dinner," she trails off as the pieces start to fall into place.

They've been tricked. Or she's been tricked. Another great joke being played on Kate Beckett. Maybe this really is high school.

Still, she takes the seat being offered to her, thanking the maî·tre d' quietly and waiting until he's out of earshot to turn back to her partner.

Castle opens his mouth. Maybe he's reached the same conclusion she has, maybe he hasn't, but she doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't," she warns. "Don't say a word, Castle."

"What'd I do?" he squawks. " _I_ didn't set this up. I thought I was going to have a nice dinner with someone who actually enjoys my company."

"Yeah, well, I thought I was going to have a nice dinner with someone who doesn't make it their mission in life to _annoy_ me." Although right now, Maddie and Castle are neck and neck for that title.

He looks wounded and a stab of remorse runs through her. He's not… he doesn't bother her _that_ much anymore.

"Look… I'll just go. Why don't you give Demming a call, have a romantic dinner with him?"

"What's the matter, Castle?" she hisses, fed up with his hangdog act. "Are you pissed off that _someone_ actually wants me? Pissed off that you might have to share your Beckett prize?"

His jaw tightens. "And what about you, Beckett? I saw your face; you can't _stand_ the idea that Madison might actually be into me, can you? Now why is that?"

"Shut up," she snaps.

"You don't want me, clearly, so why don't you want anyone else to have me?" he presses, leaning against the table.

His eyes blaze, but she sees the hurt lingering behind the fire, feels his frustration burning through her, matching her own. She pushes anyway, lashing out for no other reason than because she can.

"Maybe I'm trying to save them the trouble of watching you chase after anything in a skirt as soon as you get _bored_ with them."

Castle sits back, looking like she's just slapped him.

"You know what? I don't need this." His fingers clench around his discarded napkin as he stands. "Enjoy your dinner, Beckett. I'll see you arou – "

"Wine, sir? Ma'am?"

Oh, of all the… _now_?

Schooling her face, Beckett looks up, only to see the gazes of more than a couple of the tables around them on her. Fuck. This is clearly an intervention; they've made a scene.

Castle's cheeks turn pink just before he smiles the fake smile and takes charge. He orders a bottle of her favorite red and she can see the restraint he employs by not asking to make it two. One for each of them.

The poor young sommelier retreats, giving Beckett the chance to exhale. That was awful.

Castle's eyes lower to meet hers and she can see her words hit him hard.

"I'm," she murmurs, dipping her head. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. All of it was."

"Yeah," he agrees, shifting from one foot to the other. "Yeah it was."

Her lower lip finds its way between her teeth. "Can we start over?"

Resignation flutters across his features. "From where, Beckett? From the point where you all-but accused me of being a pathological cheater? Or from the point where you reminded me yet again that I'm never going to have a chance to prove I'm not the asshole you think I am? Or maybe from the point where –"

"Stop, Castle. I'm sorry. I was a bitch. Just… sit? Have dinner with me? The claws are being retracted, I swear."

Castle swallows hard, glancing around to see if anyone's still watching them. A couple of onlookers remain, but most of the voyeurs have let their attention shift elsewhere.

"You already ordered the wine, after all," she offers. "And it beats having the peanut gallery judging us."

Her partner laughs tightly, but sits. She nods in acceptance, licking her lips before guzzling the complimentary water. Castle does the same, swiping his hand on his pant leg as soon as the glass is back on the table.

Save for the clinking of silverware against plates and the rumble of chatter around them, there's silence. She doesn't quite know where to start to have a real conversation, and apparently he doesn't either.

"What do you think you're going to have?" he asks finally, reaching for the menu.

This meal is nothing like their late night trips to Remy's or the takeout dinners they've shared at the precinct. There's no teasing, no over the top questions, no flirting. He answers when she asks him something, and that's really the only time he speaks at first.

He finally softens when she offers to let him try her salad. Her cheeks flush at the memory of watching Maddie do the same thing with him just a week or two ago; somehow she thinks he likes it better with her.

He smiles, licking his lips. "That is good. The vinaigrette was a good choice."

"Yeah it was. What about yours?"

"Here, try it." He nudges the salad plate closer, but Kate ignores it in favor of opening her mouth. It feels silly, but this is a fresh start, right? She can be a woman on what's essentially a blind date, flirting just a little bit. She can be better than the jerk she was earlier. He's trying for her, she can try for him.

"Oh, that is pretty good," she hums, swiping at her lips with her napkin, hiding her mouth from him while she swallows the final bit of her taste.

"Yeah, it's the peppercorns."

"Nice palate, Castle."

He brightens up a little bit, taking another bite. The next time she asks a question, his answer is animated. _He_ is animated again, and by the time their entrees come, he's the one telling the stories and making her laugh so hard her cheeks hurt.

They reach for the wine as one. His fingers curl around hers, squeezing as he lifts the bottle. Her hand slips away almost reluctantly, but he just smiles.

"More?"

"Please." She holds up the glass. The brand is more expensive than she typically indulges in, but it's delicious nonetheless (possibly more so because Maddie's paying). Castle pours her a generous second glass before doing the same for himself.

"Hey," she murmurs after a slow sip. "Split dessert with me? The biggest, most chocolatey thing we can get?"

Castle's face slides into an easy grin. "Deal. And if they don't have it here, I know just the place."

"Perfect." Her finger slips between one of his, the move bold enough to surprise them both. Her heart flutters; this is why she doesn't touch him. This is why he stays at arm's length. This is why Tom was so much safer, and why Tom ultimately didn't stand a chance.

The heart wants what the heart wants, after all.

Castle's fingers wrap around hers, the grip part peace offering and part hopeful. She returns the squeeze carefully, conveying the same with the gentle touch.

Eating with clasped hands is somewhat awkward, but they make it work. Once their dessert plates are taken away and they've again been assured that Madison has taken care of their meal, Castle stands, sliding his fingers free. Before she has time to be disappointed, he's rounding the table to offer her his arm. It's a sweet gesture, sweeter than she deserved at the start of the evening, and she thanks him quietly.

Though they recovered from their earlier bad behavior, Beckett has a feeling everyone breathes a sigh of relief when they leave the dining room. That _really_ wasn't one of her finer moments.

Once outside, she exhales, letting the cool spring air trail over her arms. Castle catches her hand as soon as she begins to pull away, looking as reluctant to part as she feels.

He takes a deep breath. "I um, I never apologized for earlier. For accusing you of… and being an ass in general."

Kate watches their hands slip over one another, tentatively sliding her fingers into the spaces between his. "Passive aggressive doesn't look good on you, Castle."

He shakes his head, looking chastened. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I am, too. Sorry, I mean. For everything I said. I know you're not… that guy."

He nods, dipping his head in acceptance. He's still hurt, that much is obvious, but the apology helps.

She knows something else that might help, too.

"And, for what it's worth, the thing with Demming… isn't a thing."

She can't stop the shiver that runs through her at the delight that spreads across his face.

"He's not?"

"No. It was… fun, but not really what I'm looking for."

Castle steps closer, looking cautiously hopeful. "Oh. And um, you know there's… nothing with Madison. I was just going to beg for information about you if she'd showed."

A soft laugh escapes her lips. Yeah, she'd known that.

"So um… maybe we could do this again sometime? Without the fighting first?"

"I'd like that," Castle breathes, eyes skipping rapidly between hers and down to her lips.

"I would, too."

"Good."

"Good," she echoes, giving his lips one last glance before using their joined hands to pull him closer. His free hand closes around her hip, an almost shy smile on his lips. Funny, before tonight, _shy_ isn't a word she ever would've associated with Richard Castle.

Now he's offering that smile to her.

"Kate," he breathes, swiping his thumb along the ridge of her hip, giving her time to change her mind about this. About him.

She doesn't. Her hand trails over his shoulder, curling warmly around the back of his neck before bringing his head down to hers for that first soft, gorgeous, mind-bending kiss.

The first of many.

The next morning, after shrugging off Castle's sleep-heavy arm and slipping into the bathroom, she remembers to check her phone. Today _is_ her off day, but she can't go completely off the grid. Not while they still have open cases on their desks. She finds the device underneath a pile of their combined clothes and casts a glance over her shoulder before checking her notifications.

She has an email or ten that she should read at some point, a reminder voicemail from her dad about sending her cousin a graduation card unless she wants him to just sign her name on the one he's mailing soon, and a text.

Laughter bubbles from her lips before she has the chance to stop it, inadvertently causing her companion to squirm underneath her sheets. His large hand stretches across the mattress, connecting with her hip.

"Mmm Beckett?"

"I'm here, Castle," she murmurs, reaching back to stroke his wrist. He squirms closer, trying to touch more of her skin. "Gonna make coffee in a sec. Just reading my texts."

"Wha'ssofunny?"

Twisting, she steals an impulsive kiss from his mouth. It's sloppy with sleep and a little ripe from their combined morning breath, but she doesn't care. He's cute right now with sex-mussed hair and his scruff, bleary eyes, and that adorable little pout of his.

"I'll leave it open so you can read it. S'from Maddie," she explains, kissing him again. "Do not snoop through the rest of my phone, Castle."

He grins, stretching the sleep from his limbs. "Well when you put it that way…"

"Castle," she warns, making a valiant attempt at scooting away before he lands a raspberry on her side.

"Kidding, Beckett. Hand it over."

She slips her phone to him, tugging his shirt over her head and making her way to the kitchen.

She knows the moment he reads the message, because his chuckle echoes throughout her apartment.

The text is only two words long, but somehow it's the best thing her friend could've said.

 _"You're welcome."_


End file.
